Carol H Tucker Passionate about knowledge management and organizational development, expert in loan servicing, virtual world denizen and community facilitator, and a DISNEY fan
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beladona Memorial Be warned:in this very rich environment where you can immerse yourself so completely, your emotions will become engaged -- and not everyone is cognizant of that. Among the many excellent features of SL, there is no auto-return on hearts, so be wary of where your's wanders...
A couple years ago, one thing that was puzzling me was why my complexion was looking so rattled. Pores seemed to gape, the skin tone seemed off and every flaw jumped out at me as I gazed in the mirror. Mind you, like everyone else I am my own worst critic, but this was getting really bad. I started experimenting with makeup for the first time in my life, spending time and money and still not happy with the result.
And then I looked at my hair – well what is left of the thinning strands anyway [another story for another time].
I went through a stage where I wore wigs because I never could get my hair to do what I wanted it to do or to stay put. Somewhere there is a picture of me posing in a blond wig in a store and looking absolutely like I crawled out of the gutter in a drunken stupor – and that is a flattering description of just how bad I looked as a blonde. About five years later, I was at the House of Wigs [a little place off 95N in the Carolinas, don’t know if it is still there or not] and the woman told me that I had light brown hair and was not a “real” redhead, so I tried on the wig she brought out to me, looked in the mirror and sighed. She stared at me, snatched the wig off my head and walked away muttering “You’re right. You’re a redhead.”
Fast forward two decades: gray arrived slowly, mixing in with my hair and turning it lighter and lighter as there was more and more of it. Now I don’t care about being gray – I earned it, neh? But I do care about not looking like a thoroughly and perpetually rattled floozy – that makes me feel old and unattractive in a way that the gray never did. So I started experimenting with coloring my hair and found a look I liked. And yet it bothers me, not just the expense [is $150 every other month too much to spend on vanity?], but because I feel like I sold out to some idealized image of “beauty”. Besides, I can hear myself as a youth stating strongly that “I” was never going to be that old woman with the frizzy-haired bright red dye job shuffling through the mall wearing knee-high stockings and a skirt [stockings? Another story for another time]
*coughs*
yeah well back in the day, Mick Jagger promised he wouldn’t be strutting his stuff when he got old, so I don’t feel too bad…. but I do have to admit that I kinda envy you gals who can rock the gray look!
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